Null and Void
by WizardsGirl
Summary: Magic AU. Junior Deputy Cassius Rook is used to being avoided, maligned, and misused because of what he is. The fact that the Marshal wants him here BECAUSE of what he is doesn't do much to soften the ache in his chest. But then, they're in the Church, and his entire world goes sideways.


**A/N:** Hey, look, the Magic AU has arrived! And it's not Harry Potter Magic! 8D

**Null and Void**

Junior Deputy Cassius Rook knew why he had been picked to go along with this sham of an Arrest. It wasn't because he was six-foot-five and could lift his weight without the aide of Charms or Runes. It wasn't because he had the single most experience in traversing the Wildes out of the entire Sheriffs department, despite the fact that he'd only been a Junior Deputy for two months. It wasn't because he spoke seven human languages, three dialects of Fae, a smattering of Mermish, and knew all the curse words a Hobgoblin could come up with (and some that had impressed Dirgdvich the last time they'd ran into each other at the Spread Eagle).

No, he wasn't there because of _any_ of the work he'd put in. He was there because of what he _was_.

A Null. The Antithesis of Magic. The Ender of Spells. The Void within the Energy of the Universe.

Marshal Burke was a Cynocephalus, his head that of a Rottweiler, and he was hungry for blood. The Project at Eden's Gate group (Cult, it was definitely a Cult) had raised alarms within the community since if appeared from the Wildes and people began joining. It's founders, the Seed Family, were whispered of in the streets, but, outside the walls of the Compound, none had laid eyes on them, no Sensors or Spellcrafters or Magipaths knew what Gifts they had. At least, none that they could explain.

But Fae-Flowers didn't bloom into life without Magic, and the Bliss that the Cult grew and ground and weaponized were Fae-Flower Hybrids. That alone would have gotten them arrested, or at least Bound, but Burke wasn't after some drug trafficking or illegal Faerie experimentation, no. He was after the head of the serpent. He was Hunting Joseph Seed, the 'Father', a so-called Prophet.

And that was where Rook came in.

After all, a Null was immune to all Magicks of Guile and Mind, and resistant to all others. A touch of Rook's hand could cancel out the strongest of Wards and Glamours, tear away the entirety of a Being's Power with a brush of his bare skin against theirs. He could even, with concentration, Bind their Powers for a time, make Fae Mortal and raise devastation within the non-human Territories, should he wish it. A flex of his Aura could snuff out a Gift without him breaking a sweat, could suffocate a Being whose Gift was tied too close to their Life Energies, could Swallow Magick completely and wholely and leave not a trace behind...

There was a reason his kind was nearly Extinct, why they were hunted down at birth in times gone by.

(Why he couldn't enter either Seelie nor Unseelie Court without permission from their leaders. It was a Death Sentence for his kind, and for theirs)

So, no, Burke didn't demand his presence for anything he had actually done, any work he'd put in, any effort he exerted.

He was there to stop any and all unapproved Magick from happening, and Bind Joseph Seed beyond the use of Handcuffs and Wards. It was a bitter, ironic taste in his throat, Rook mused as he quietly walked slowly behind his superiors, to be _wanted_ because of what he was. It was usually the other way around. He was usually wanted for his experience and knowledge, and avoided for his Gift (his Curse).

In a world where Magick breathed Lyfe into the very Air, no one wished to feel the cold Void that was his presence. His very Aura told all and sundry what he was, there was no Cloaking it. If the world was a white room, he was a black hole at its center that sucked the very air from his surroundings and fed upon it. If he wasn't killed or grievously injured, Rook was all but Immortal because of it, his Life Energy feeding on the Magick he absorbed and Nullified.

If he were a selfish man, he would have been smug in this knowledge, but Rook wasn't a selfish man.

...He couldn't touch his bare skin to another's without risking damage to their Gift. Over-exposure to his Aura had been known to cause Magick Withdrawals, panic attacks, paranoia, illness. He had to have iron-willed self-control when entering Warded Zones, especially hospitals, or he risked Nullifying everything around him, destroying what had been built and powered for centuries before his time.

He was a Null, and he was a Void, and he would die a Null and Void, and he had long ago accepted that fact.

So, was he surprised that Burke was so eager to throw him against whatever Spells and Gifts and Wards the Seeds had accumulated over their decade in Hope County? No. Was he disappointed? A little, yes. But, he was a Junior Deputy, and he had a job to do.

Sighing through his nose in the helicopter ride towards the Compound, Rook bleakly stared down at the far away ground as the Sheriff tried to 'talk sense' into the Cynocephalus Marshal, the Wilde Magick that let him Shapeshift into an all-white mustang kicking up around him in frustrated nerves, the whispering echo of agitated whinnies stirring through the air. To Rook's right, Hudson sat, still and focused, her fangs folded up and her long, sinuous tail coiled tightly in her seat, the Naga's tailtip the only part giving away her agitation, twitching like a cat's tail as she caressed her Iron-Spelled shotgun. In the pilot's seat, Pratt babbled and cursed as his nerves made him twitchy, bitter scented smoke flickering from his mouth and flames sparking from his fingertips as the weak Pyromancer fidgeted with the controls.

They set the helicopter down what felt like too-soon, and then they were within the Compound, and Rook felt something buzz against the back of his mouth, like a tickle in his throat as his fingertips began to ache and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Around them, as they slowly walked, the Peggies stared and snarled and muttered, their Gifts clear and stronger than Rook had seen before, and he suddenly, abruptly realized it was because none of them were being Withheld. Fascination mixed with anxiety as he trailed his eyes around them at the hostile people, taking in the many Races and Gifts on casual display. Rare were the places where Gifts were not, by Law, forced to be held back. In some Conclaves, where Mancers of various abilities lived their whole lives, you could find such things, uninhibited Gifts on display for the world, but those places were few and far between and growing fewer as the world grew older.

Now, if you used your Gift in public outside of work-related or Gift-related permissions, you were more likely to get fined than anything. Once you hit thirteen, you were expected to Withhold your Gift outside of private spaces, as that was the age where control was capable of being fully gained, outside of the rare mutation or genetic condition.

But here they were, surrounded by people who were using their Gifts both consciously and subconsciously, out in the open, unafraid and unimpeded.

And, as they moved onward, that unimpeded Power was beginning to shift around them, anger and possessiveness and despair and disbelief and denial turning the air darker, a miasma of hostility that lapped at the Void of Rook and hissed, spitting like an untended cauldron as he walked slowly forward. The thing about Null's was that they Undid Magick just by _existing_. In order to do that, they instinctively _Knew_ Magick. The taste, the smell, the sound and feel and sight of it, senses forever unimpeded. You could never hide your Gift from a Null, and, here, surrounded by so many Gifts that weren't Withheld, Rook's senses _spun_. His slow, steady steps turned into near shuffles, his body swaying faintly, the taste of ozone on his tongue and in his nose as fireworks of afterimages in all shapes and colors flashed in his eyes and a cacophony of murmurs and hisses, echoed by their Wielders, scrapped along his eardrums and made his head _pulse_.

"Steady, Rook," Sheriff Whitehorse murmured to him, his Magick stamping a hoof and tossing its head, an unheard chuff of unease echoing through the charged air. Rook nodded his head as they finally reached the Church, the culmination of the Compounds entire pool of Magicks. Rook's ears were still filled with humming and hissing and growls, his eyes slowly blinking. Vaguely, he knew that Whitehorse was giving them a last-minute pep-talk, and that Burke was growling under his breath, jowls shivering with a sound that made Rook's Magick-Overwhelmed ears _itch_. Hudson was coiling her long, sinuous body to place her human-like torso higher, her puff-adder markings shimmering with silver light as she prepped a Shield Spell, shotgun at the ready.

And then, the Church doors were open, and they were alone behind enemy lines.

Rook's breath caught in his chest, his skin crawled, his ears popped, his eyes ached, and ozone coated his throat like blood with every breath and swallow he gave. The mood of the Magick within the Church whiplashed from devote and focused and humming oh-so-very strongly in the air, to hostile and suspicious and bared-fangs-against-the-throat. Rook tasted copper and realized that his nose was threatening to bleed, had already started, blood sliding down the back of his throat, overwhelmed and pained but able to focus, now, as his Aura devoured the Magick that tried to affect him, whether consciously or not.

In his time of inattention, Burke had interrupted the Sermon, had snarled as he barked out his orders, as the people within the Church threatened to swarm their little group before being sent away. And, Rook suddenly found himself standing before what his afterimage-blinded eyes could make out to be Joseph Seed, the Father Himself, pale blue eyes hidden behind large, yellow Ray-Bans, bare torso marked with sins carved into his flesh and the black-ink of Runes that held no Magick, only Meaning. Runes for Purpose and Truth and Clear Sight, for Protector and Guide and Messenger and Chosen.

"Cuff this son of a bitch, Rook!" Burke barked at him, fangs snapping, jowls quivering, lips pulled back, his dark eyes glimmering half-gold as his Magick swirled beneath his skin in the beginning of a Force Spell, ready to be unleased, a blunt wave of violence held back by force of Will. Rook blinked starburst from his eyes and stepped forward cautiously, still well out of reach as Joseph offered his wrists and a solemn, calm look.

"God will not let you Take me," the Father told him, calmly, serenely, a statement of fact so deeply believed it might has well have Etched itself into the air in Runes and Power. Behind the Father, back and away from them, unthreatening, were what Rook recognized as the other Seeds. Jacob, the eldest, with his Gift of Wolves, able to Shift and Control and Know them, strong to the point that his blue eyes gleamed predator-bright and his lips pulled back to expose deadly fangs. John, the youngest brother, with his manic-bright blues and smug smile and the scent of copper radiating from his pores like a sickly perfume, covered in countless Runes and shimmering, copper-colored Power, a Bloodmancer strong enough to pull open the oldest of wounds and make them bleed fresh again. Soft, sweet-scented and sweet-faced Faith, twirling Fae-Flowers between her fingers, the sickly-sweet scent of rotting foliage coming from her with every breath, a shimmer of silvery-green Magick coiling like vines around her ankles, feet bare to better feel and control the Earth, an Elemental with just enough Fae Blood to mesmerize and Enchant without Rune or Ward to aide her.

And there, before him, almost in reach, was Joseph.

Rook's world narrowed down, tunnel-vision settling in, the sound of the Church and Magick around them abruptly muffling as he stilled, those calm, outstretched hands before him. There was a quote that Rook heard often enough, usually used ironically in his presence, sometimes as an explanation for just how uncomfortable he made people feel, that suddenly came to mind.

_If you stare into the Void, the Void stares back._

Within Joseph Seed, in the Heart of him where all Living Being's Gifts reside, a Void stared back into Rook's own.

"Oh," he and Joseph breathed as one, their voices soft and wondering, eyes wide, hands twitching.

Joseph Seed was a Null.

Rook was helpless before him, the sudden, tearing knowledge that _he wasn't alone_ rendering him statue-still and blank, the Void of his Aura tentatively expanding, beseeching, trailing trembling tendrils out towards the older mans own. Behind his yellow Ray-Bans, Joseph's eyes flashed, and his Aura was suddenly _everywhere_, silencing the impatient snarls of Burke and that nervous whinnies of Whitehorse, stealing the very _air_ from their lungs as understanding of the situation suddenly appeared.

"_No_," Whitehorse breathed, choked, gasping like he was suffocating as the encompassing Void of Joseph's Aura filled the entirety of the Church. Behind him, the other Seeds watched on, their Magicks silenced just as much as the Marshal's and Sheriffs, but Rook vaguely noted that there was something, something _gentle_ about them, something _accepting_.

The Void looked unto them, and they Looked back, and _Smiled_.

"My Child," Joseph breathed, stepping suddenly forward, and Rook couldn't _breathe_ choking as his heart lodged in his throat, as tears fell unheeded down his cheeks, as his Aura curled up within the older mans like a frightened child, his own hands rising to curl against his chest, shoulders hunching. Gentle, fever-hot fingers settled against his skin, against _his bare skin_, unflinching and unhesitant, the first purposeful touch Rook had received since his early childhood, back when the Void was smaller and less dangerous, back when he'd still been _safe to touch_-

"Oh, my Child," Joseph whispered, pulling him in, his _hands_, oh God his _hands were still on Rooks face_ and then, then Rook's forehead was _touching_ his, and the sudden, wretched sob that tore from the Junior Deputy's throat was loud and violent and forced from him like a desperate, living thing, clawing out his chest and so very _hurt_. "It is alright, my Child," Joseph breathed to him. "You are safe. You are not Alone. I am here, my Child. Your Father is here," he breathed, pressing his lips to Rook's cheek, their faces pressing together. Rook's hands, his whole _body and Soul_, were trembling, vibrating within the overwhelmingly protective Void of Joseph's Aura.

When he managed to, finally, force his hands to uncurl from the wretched knot they'd made against his Center, he hesitantly, meekly, reached up, gloved digits brushing and then clinging desperately to the older man's sides, body hunching, feeling smaller than he had since he was a child, raggedly sobbing as he pressed desperately into the Father's hold. Joseph shushed him, hands moving to wrap around Rook's trembling form in a hug that was as warm and encompassing as his Aura.

"Shh, my Child," Joseph murmured, crooned, fingers stroking along his spine possessively as Rook buried his face into his neck. Blue eyes flashing fever bright and victorious behind his glasses as he witnessed Jacob and John stepping forward from the shadows, moving to secure the locusts that sought to harm his Flock, these disgusting, Sin-laden insects that had tried to subvert him out of fear and Pride and Greed. Faith slipped past them with a sweet smile, green and gold ringed gaze fluttering over the weeping Child in his arms with loving affection already, even as Joseph pulled his Aura back so that her Bliss would Bloom. He began to gently rock the clinging, lonely Soul in his hold, humming Amazing Grace even as he watched his Little Sister open the Church doors and greet the startled, angry Naga there with a sweet smile and a breath of Bliss.

"It's alright now, my Child," he crooned softly, pulling his new Little Brother in closer, enveloping the aching, lonely Void within the Deputy with his own, swallowing it whole and feeling him sob wetly with relief against his skin, face rooting against his shoulder like a kitten against their mother, seeking the Warmth of his Void with his own, hold desperate. "It's alright," Joseph breathed, resting his head against the Deputy's own, a small smile curling his lips, gaze fierce as he met the wide, frightened eyes of Whitehorse before Jacob snapped the old man's neck, the dying whinny of his Magick Swallowed and vanished before it could reach the little one in his arms.

To the side, Faith skipped back to the Cynocephalus that bared his teeth at John, growls choked and Swallowed by Joseph's Void. A single breath of Bliss, a curling crown of Fae-Flowers, and the dog collapsed under his Little Sister's Gift and came to heel with doleful, droopy eyes and a meek snuffle. Joseph knew that his Little Sister would take the dog home, lead him to her Compound with a gentle smile and sweet coo. She had always wanted a dog, after all. She would have to be reminded to feed this one, but he was hers, a Gift from Joseph and God alike, a pet of her own who would outlive the usual four-legged dogs she so longed to pet but so often forgot to care for.

The Naga would go to John, he decided, catching the gleaming eye of his younger brother as the Bloodmancer kicked lightly at the Deputy's limp coils. She would need to be de-fanged, figuratively and literally, if she was to survive the coming Collapse, if she was to Join their Family, and John worked well with those like her. He would, no doubt, thrive with the challenge.

The last interloper would be Jacob's. A new pup for his Pack, a new soldier for their Holy Army, a new spark for the flame of his elder brother's Soul. And, if the other could not adapt, could not grow Strong? More meat for the Wolves his brother so loved. It made him happy, made him rejoice, to know that his Siblings had received these Gifts, that God had Blessed them with these Lost Souls to Save.

God was generous in both Gift and Curse, Joseph knew. And the little one in his arms was the truest Sign, a little Lamb of Joseph's own. Someone like him who had known the same despair and loneliness, the same Emptiness. A Little One for him to nurture and love and raise, for him to Guide into the Light. A Little One all his own...

"It's all going to be alright," he breathed, Vowed, possessiveness making his Aura tighten, his eyes gleam, and his Little One _melted_ under his Ownership. "It's all going to be alright..."

"You're Home now, Little Brother. Welcome Home..."

**A/N:** Ta-Da! Trippy magic AU for you! Tell me what you think!


End file.
